LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL PUBLICATIONS OF THE PAST QUARTER. Un Voyage de Désagréments à Londres. Par Sous les Filets-Scènes et Moeurs des Rives. En Quarantaine, Scènes et Moeurs des Grèves. Les Vendanges, Nouvelles. Par Léon Gozlan. Il faut que Jeunesse se Passe. Par A. de Lavergne. Two vols. Le Comte Barbe blue. Par Paul Feval. Two vls. Les Pretendants de Catherine. Par A. De Isaac Laquedem. Par Alex. Dumas. Four vols. Le Chevalier d'Estagnol. Par le Marquis de Le Chevalier de Pampelonne. Par A. De Le Comte de Lavernie. Par Auguste Maquet. Vols. I à IV. Renée de Varville. Par Mad. Virginie Ancelot. Two vols. Les Aventures de M. le Baron. Par le Marquis de Foudras. Vol. I. La Marquise Cornelia d'Alfi, ou le Lac d'Annecy et ses Environs. Par Eugène Sue. Le Lilas de Perse. Par Léon Gozlan. La Pasteur d'Ashbourn, Par Alex. Dumas. Scènes d'Italie et de Vendée. Par J. Crétineau Joly. NOTICE TO CORRESPONDENTS. G. M. F. POONAH.-The best reply we can make to our Correspondent, who complains of his inability to procure copies of the . REVIEW in that part of India where he is located, will be found in the following Extract from a leading article in the "BOMBAY TIMES," May 23, 1853: "It is with much pleasure we direct the attention of our readers to the Advertisement which appears in another part of this issue, from which it appears that our estimable and enterprising townsman, Mr. Chesson, has been appointed the Agent for Western India for the New Quarterly Review; and we trust, less for Mr. Chesson's sake than for that of our readers, that this admirable Periodical may meet with an Indian circulation commensurate with its claims on the attention and gratitude of the Indian community. "The critical judgments in the New Quarterly Review are characterized by discrimination and good taste-a readiness to award praise where it is really deserved, but no sparing of the rod where the interest of authors, or readers, or both, appears to demand it use. Above all, a strict impartiality presides over this new tribunal: there is no respect of persons here, and its decrees are free, at all events, from the imputation, 'Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas.' The convenience of such a publication is obvious: and, conducted as it is with ability and fairness, it cannot but succeed. One thing seems to be the Editor's aim-as opposite to the customs of many Reviews as light and darkness-truth and candour is the motto, without regard to sounding titles or long-established fame. The literature of each successive Quarter is brought under notice with a careful, independent, and fearless regard for the benefit of authors, publishers, and buyers, especial care being taken to appeal to common sense and common honesty. The New Quarterly is not one of the satirical tomahawking Reviews of the old school, that killed off stray poets with brilliant critiques: its object is, to be useful to that unfortunate person who never knows any thing—the general reader'—by helping him 'up' in the literature of the day. The reviews are written with brevity and neatness, and evince very great literary taste. We may add, that in England this Review has already acquired the proud title of 'THE QUEEN OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE. WATERING PLACES.-Owing to the pressure of urgent and important matter, the article on "The Watering Places of England unavoidably postponed. We take this opportunity of returning our acknowledgments to those Correspondents who have already kindly favoured us with information on this subject. But S. W. D. ALLAHABAD.-We can give no satisfactory information of the "Association" alluded to. To judge from its publications, it betrays the most complete ignorance of the Indian question; and evidently possesses none of the elements of stability or success. we may call attention to an excellent article in the "LONDON MAIL" of the 24th ult., recommending the formation of " an Indian Reform League" upon a really liberal and comprehensive basis. We heartily concur in the suggestion. THE NEW QUARTERLY REVIEW. RETROSPECT OF THE LITERATURE OF THE QUARTER. THE first of October is a most unpropitious day whereon to address our peripatetic public on matters literary. The island is half empty. There are more British barristers at Constantinople than in Lincoln's Inn. There are more representatives of English boroughs in Washington than in Westminster. There are not so many Cadis in Egypt as County-Court Judges. Men upon 'Change are seeking change in the Palais Royale or in the Piazzas of St. Marc; and so is a formidable body of English sovereigns and bank-notes. Even the few homeloving gentlemen who scorn the ways of foreign travel, and, having no taste for the amenities of Austrian hospitality, or the gay life of the Fort Manuel lazaretto, live at home at ease, are not in that otiose state favourable to literary amusement. The pheasant is crowing his last crow this morning in the covers, and who, with that shrill, cheery invitation in his ears, will sit down and read about the wares of Mr. Murray, the well-puffed chattels of Mr. Bentley, or the heavy speculations of the Messrs. Longman? We commence our Retrospect in an unconfident mood, and feel like an orator at a public dinner, who finds that his turn to speak has just come at the moment when the ladies are putting on their shawls and the chairman is looking at his watch. The materials are even worse than the occasion. Of the nine hundred works published during the quarter, there are not ten that deserved to be printed. English literature is growing sickly and consumptive under the baneful influence of our publishers. It best answers their purpose to keep up One weak, washy, everlasting flow of twaddle, produced at the smallest possible rate of remuneration, and, with the greatest possible speed, by their own familiar literary handicraftsmen; intended not to be read, studied, or remembered, but to be skimmed, skipped, and circulated. The common vehicles of criticism are so completely in their hands, or under their control, that every fresh piece of trumpery is lauded as "indispensable to every library." If a book be ill-spoken of, the only certain conclusion is, that it is the speculation of the author, and not of the publisher. The sine qua non of any notice whatever is, not that the book shall be a good book, or an important book, but that it shall have been “subscribed to the trade."* Can we wonder that, under such a dynasty of critics, merit cannot emerge; that in such a continuous flux of profitable trash, genius becomes stifled, enthusiasm faints, and talent, hopeless of better things, stoops to labour for "small profits and quick returns?" Yet this organized system, although it look strong as the walls of Jericho, would fall at a single blast. It wants nothing but that authors should have a little prudence, a little money, * An egregious instance of this occurred a few months back. Mr. Arden discovered one of the lost orations of Hyperides in an Egyptian sarcophagus. Every scholar in Europe was elated; the University of Cambridge printed the work at their press gratis; it was brought forth in a sumptuous volume, with elaborate fac simile; and copies were sent to the critical Journals. But Mr. Arden published the work himself, and distributed the copies to purchasers through the post-ffice: it was not "subscribed to the trade." We are informed, that of all the literary Journals of the Metropolis the Nw QUARTERLY REVIEW was the only one wherein even the existence of this most interesting and most important publication was noticed. We allude above only to periodicals that are solely of a critical character. The newspapers, not being the property of publishers, are of course under no constraint of this kind. and a thorough knowledge of the facilities of the Post-office, and the princely houses will topple down. The wholesale and retail booksellers, who now in reality do all the work, will more cheaply occupy their place. Look at this NEW QUARTERLY REVIEW-thriving and strengthening in the infancy of a third year, stretching itself over India, advancing surely in Australia, stepping in quick succession into colony after colony, entrenching itself gradually in every parish in England: think you this could have been done, in the very teeth of the whole trade of publishers, ten years ago? We had been mad to challenge such a contest, if we had not known, that although all the tributaries of Regent Street and the realms of Paternoster Row should rise in arms, and even influence the booksellers against us, Rowland Hill would stand our friend; and that, in spite of all the trade could do against us, the Post-office could, and would, if necessary, punctually deliver, aye, even to twenty thousand subscribers, each his several copy of the NEW QUARTERLY REVIEW on the day of its publication. To the prudent and the careful labourers by the brain we say-Go thou and do likewise. It is not in wilfulness nor in recklessness that we disregard the hostility of this formidable array, and dare to call the attention of our literary brethren to these facts. It is in the conscientious pursuit of the mission on which we originally set out; it is in the fulfilment of our determination to represent the brains, and not the breeches pockets of literature.* And now to our Retrospect. We sweep over a wide expanse with few eminences, and not one mountain. Some works, however, there are, of more than average importance, and chief among these may be named Mr. Ruskin's second volume of his "Stones of Venice," and the first volume of Mr. Orchard Halliwell's forty-guinea edition of the works of Shakespeare. Of the first of these we have sufficiently spoken in another place. As to the second, it is published by subscription, and has no publisher's name attached to it. For this grave offence Mr. Halliwell would have been absolutely ignored, if ignoring could have done him any harm; but as his subscription list was in a prosperous state, the publishers slipped all their domestic turnspit reviewers at him, and these have been snapping and snarling about his feet for several weeks. In a pamphlet We shall, probably in our next Number, pursue this subject, and review, in an article for which we have long been collecting materials, the whole of the relations of authors and publishers. We shall take occasion to contrast the actual accounts of publishers with estimates of what a work could be produced for, if the author employed his own printer and bought his own paper. We invite our literary brethren to assist us with their experience in these matters. which he calls "Curiosities of Modern Shakesperian Criticism," the beleaguered editor attempts to do battle with his persecutors, and makes evident their astounding ignorance; but who will read his pamphlet? For ourselves we meddle not with the conflict, nor shall we pronounce any opinion upon Mr. Halliwell's qualifications for the great task he has undertaken until we have an opportunity of seeing some fair proportion of the work. We do not profess to be able to judge of a house by a single brick. 66 Agnes Strickland+ has produced a second volume of her "Life of Mary Queen of Scots." The events are, the marriage with Darnley, the murder of Riccio, the birth of James the Sixth, and the departure of Darnley from his wife's court. The kirk-a-field tragedy is yet untold. Miss Strickland does not write good English, as the recurrence of such droll mistakes as Moray pronounced his veto for Queen Mary's death will shew; nor is she careful in her choice of words, as her describing a difficult conjuncture as "a ticklish crisis may evidence; nor is she happy or dignified in illustration; but she is very amusing. She works out her scenes in such elaborate detail, that they lay hold of the imagination; and then she is, in every page and line of her book, so thoroughly a woman! She has all a true woman's good, honest, earnest, partisanship-all her capacity for seeing one side of a question, and seeing that only-all her contempt for logical processes-qualities which are capital in a wife, and which strongly excite our delight in a dear, trusting, all-confiding woman, but which are not quite the essentials to history. This life is, as we suspected when the first volume appeared, written as a vindication of the honour of the sex: Queen Mary is perfectly right in all she did, said, or thought. She was a most affectionate, warm, faithful wife, the best of queens, and the most injured of women. As there happen to exist witnesses whose testimony would tend to prove the contrary of all this, Miss Strickland scolds these vigorously, and calls them names, with a most feminine fluency. They are Greenacres, Thurtells, and-ill-chosen and suggestive word-they are Mannings. As to Darnley, he was a weak-witted fool, and laboured under the inexplicable disadvantage, in the eyes of the feminine historian, that "unhappily he had a will of his own." We believe, with Miss Strickland, that the charge against Mary of an illicit intercourse with Rizzio is unproven; but Miss Strickland discredits at once the formed opinion of the English ambassadors to the contrary, ("I "Lives of the Queens of Scotland and English Princesses," by Agnes Strickland, Vol IV. Blackwood. |